Two Words
by Blood White Panther
Summary: ON HIATUS! This is a DMHG fic containing coarse language, sexual content, sexual frustration, sappy moments, angst, OOCness, and hopefully some humour.
1. The Incident

**A/N** Well, this is the first story I've ever uploaded. In fact, it's the first fanfic I've ever written. This means that reviews and even flames are much appreciated! Please let me know what I am doing well and what I'm doing not-so-well. This chapter contains my first ever het LEMON, so let me know how it is. I don't have a beta and don't really want one. This means you should expect a few typos and such. Also, please be advised that this is one of those stories in which Draco and Hermione get together after bumping into each other. I know it is a cliché, but if it helps, they don't immediately fall in love. They crash into each other, get in a fight with lots of insults and good old sexual tension, have hot, angry sex, experience lots of sexual frustration and self hate, and _then_ maybe they fall in love. Oh, and unless I put 'a/n' in the brackets, the stuff inside them is actually part of the story. I will signify a change in the point of view or the end of a scene with 'xxxxx'. One more thing, in general: "speaking" and 'thinking'.

**Warnings:** poorly written het LEMONS (a/n male x female sex scenes), other sexual content, foul language, Draco/Hermione pairing, hint of Harry being bisexual, OOCness, touch of angst, clichés, sappy moments, etc. Also, I have _crazy_ fun with italics.

**Disclaimer: **Much to my continuing displeasure, I do not own any characters, settings, or other recognizable elements of J. K. Rowling's 'Harry Potter' world. I do not make any money from this fanfic. I do, however, take credit for the twisted plot, such as it is, in this fanfic. (a/n Like she would write crap like this anyways. Draco/Hermione would SO not work with her storyline!)

xxxxx

Story: **Two Words**

Chapter 1: 'A Lion Meets Two Very Different Types of Snake' or alternately 'The Incident'

Hermione was running from a heated argument with Ron, close to tears and really quite enraged. Not paying attention to where she was, each furious stride was taking her deeper and deeper into the dark dungeons and lost, torch lit halls beneath the school (she'd started out in Gryffindor tower, so down is a logical direction to take). 'How could he!' She'd been helping him with a potions essay, _helping him_, and Ron had suddenly lost it when she'd pointed out that he really should have started weeks ago. Well, it _had_ been the third time she'd pointed this out, but _really_, the thing was due _tomorrow_! Nerves were strung by this point (it was already after eleven o'clock), and both of them had just lost it. 'It was such a stupid fight.' Hermione squeezed her eyes closed and tightened the clench of her fists, bolting ever faster towards the next bend in the corridor.

"Oooff!" Hermione had smacked into something student-sized, yet strangely solid to have withstood her blind charge. The impact should have sent her sprawling backwards, but two pale hands instinctively reached out, grasping her shoulders to steady her. Hermione immediately tired to lurch violently away from the student-sized object and, unfortunately for the hands, both their owner and Hermione tumbled to the hard, stone floor.

"Oooff!" Hermione looked up as the body she lay sprawled atop protested air being knocked from lungs twice in less than five seconds. She took in pale, blond hair and hard, grey eyes.

"Malfoy!" Hermione growled. She was not in the mood for another fight.

xxxxx

"Granger! What the Hell!?" Draco snarled in outrage, not yet letting his hands drop to the floor.

"Watch where you're running you fucking mudblood! Other people use these—"

"Shut the fuck up you bloody ferret!" Granger snarled back, angrily gripping each of Draco's shoulders with a fist of talon-like fingers.

"Bloody _Malfoy_! I don't fucking have the patience for this right now!" she roared, blazing eyes seeming to stare through Draco's to look at the floor. As if to emphasize this point, Granger lifted Draco's shoulders slightly and slammed him back into the floor. Draco flinched, his eyes widening a few millimetres as he angrily tried to stop his mouth from gaping. He turned this expression into a sneer.

"You're acting more psychotic than usual. Did the Weasel finally _fuck_ you, Mudblood?" Finally realizing their position on the floor, Draco thrusted his hips suggestively against Granger's at the word 'fuck'. He sneered again.

"Was it mutual, or did he just jump you in the hall somewhe—Agh!" Draco's head rang at the sharp, jarring pain he experienced when Granger punched his head into the floor.

"You bloody well better take that back, you inbred snake!" 'What the Hell? The Mudblood slugged me again!? Wait, did she say _inbred_!?' He wasn't feeling quite as good about his provocations now, but Mafoys do _not_ give up this easily and they _certainly_ do _not_ get called inbred.

"Oh, _that's_ right. You're such a filthy, dirty-blooded whore that no one would even _want_ to rape you." he replied smoothly.

"You fucking. prissy. bloody. inbred. greasy. prick!" Granger's surprisingly strong fingers tightened their grip on Draco's shoulders as she slammed him down against the floor again and again to emphasize each word. Hands on shoulders and, incidentally, pelvis on pelvis.

"Sssss…" Draco let out a gasp of surprise and dropped his hands to his sides. 'What the bloody Hell had gotten into—wait? No. Oh, Hell no.' His eyes widened a few more millimetres in horror at the growing, hardening sensation as blood rushed to his groin.

xxxxx

Hermione's eyes widened slightly as well and she reddened a shade deeper than simple fury. She watched Malfoy's face closely as his surprised expression turned quickly into a scowl and then a glare. Her lips slowly turned up into a Malfoy-eske smirk. She _liked_ this power.

"So you like it _rough_, _huh_?" She punctuated the last two of these words by bracing Malfoy's shoulders against the floor and thrusting her hips, pushing her pelvis against his slowly hardening erection.

"Unhh," Malfoy groaned involuntarily and then hissed in anger. She liked the feel of him growing beneath her, _powerless_ to stop it. Impotent to stop his lack of impotence. She smirked evilly at the pun and brought her teeth to the pulse point on Malfoy's neck. _God_, she loved the power…

xxxxx

Draco fought the urge to bring his hands up from where they rested at his sides and _crush_ the girl to his body. He settled for tightening his fists. He would _not_ screw a bloody mudblood! He groaned slightly as the Gryffindor girl grinded against his already painfully throbbing erection.

"I have the power," Granger whispered, breathing harshly against Draco's skin as she brought her mouth down to his neck. In response to the hot breath, he automatically tilted back his head to give the girl better access. Draco hissed sharply as she bit into his pulse point and bucked up his hips involuntarily, groaning as his erection brushed harshly against the fabric between him and the Granger girl's thigh. 'Fuck it. I. need. this. now.' Draco glared at the layers of rough cloth between them and began to tear angrily at Granger's robes.

xxxxx

"Heh," Hermione laughed quietly at the Slytherin's antics, taking both hands off the boy's shoulders to rip open the front of his robes and thus reveal smooth, pale, slightly sweaty skin. Here, _she_ was the one in control. With this thought, Hermione sucked hard at the base of Malfoy's neck, where it joined with his shoulder, and bit down sharply. She moved to nibble along his left collar bone. He hissed sharply as she did this and continued to hiss as she worked her mouth on his flesh.

xxxxx

"Shh shh, angry little snake. You see? Your _mother_'s not the only _whore_ you want to _fuck_," Granger whispered into Draco's ear. He snarled angrily at this disgusting insult, but as he tensed his muscles to throw off the repulsive Gryffindor, she suddenly reached around to her pocket, drew out her wand, and murmured a quick spell. The sound was muffled as she had uttered it against his chest. It sounded something like 'mphmff'.

"Hey..." his growl of protest died in his throat as skin met skin. _Hot, sweaty, smooth skin._

"Unhh..." Draco moaned. The conniving little mudblood bitch had disrobed them both and it was suddenly too much for him to take. Using muscles honed at Quidditch practise and his slightly superior height to his advantage, Draco hooked his right leg around her left one, wrapped an arm around her shoulders to support her head, and flipped their bodies up and over, effectively claiming top and stealing Granger's power in one fell swoop. No more of this teasing. He _would_ be dominant. Using his left forearm to support most of his weight, he braced it against the stone just to the side of Granger's head as he looked down to study her face. Draco noted smugly that Granger appeared momentarily panicked. He began to harshly, roughly caress her soft skin, fingers rubbing a nipple, teeth biting into a shoulder. The panic and some of the anger were wiped from Granger's face as her eyelids fluttered and her back arched off the cool, sticky stone.

"Unhh…" she moaned, her hands moving to tangle in Draco's pale hair. As she writhed beneath his touch, Draco could restrain himself no longer. He roughly spread her legs, forcing his hips into position and then ramming himself deep inside her. He felt a slight resistance and Granger may have screamed, but he quickly forgot this as he found the warm, sweet paradise of being fully ensheathed inside of her. He moaned slightly.

"Aaahh!" she screamed again. 'Wait, was that screaming? Was that _pain_?'

xxxxx

(a/n back in time to when Draco flipped them)

Hermione had lost her power but she had also lost her will to care. He was so forceful, so _enraged_. She would have bruises, but—

"Unhh…" God, it felt so good. Her hands moved up to tangle in his hair. It was soft and not greasy, actually. Feverishly, Hermione became aware that Malfoy was expertly forcing her legs apart and position himself at her opening. Suddenly, he thrust himself into her and she screamed. It was pain. tearing. _suffering_. She was ripping inside, _bleeding_. She felt hot blood trickle wetly between her thighs. Her hands fell to her sides and she clenched them, her knuckles turning white. She wanted it to stop!

"Aaahh!" she screamed again and Malfoy seemed to falter. However, as he tilted his head to look at her in concern, his angle inside of her changed and she moaned loudly, half in pain and half in pleasure. Her hands scratched up his back, seemingly of their own volition.

xxxxx

Experimentally, Draco hit the spot again, though gently. Granger shuddered and moaned. She bucked up her hips so that he slid deeper and Draco moaned with her. Holding down her hips, he slowly moved in and out of her, setting a gentle rhythm. Damn it all. She felt so good around him. He just wanted to lose himself and pound into her, to fuck her into the ground. Granger shivered beneath him as a draft blew across their bare skin, making the torchlight flicker and their flesh tingle. With a strangled cry, Draco lost his last vestige of control and indeed proceeded to 'fuck her into the ground'.

"Ahhh…"

"Mmm…"

"Dra-aco!"

"Harder. Faster. Please!" She didn't seem to mind. A slightly shifted angle, one last thrust in just the right place, and suddenly Hermione could take it no longer.

"Fuck—Draco!" she screamed as her nerves exploded and her vision went white. Her body clenched around Draco and—

" 'Mione!" he gasped as he came inside her, his vision exploding into white light. He sank against her, instinctively supporting himself with his right forearm and resting his lips against her neck, strangely unwilling to pull immediately out of her and away. Both lay panting for several minutes, still connected, sweaty skin against sweaty skin.

xxxxx

Hermione sighed softly, feeling Draco's—when did she stop thinking of him as Malfoy—hard-on relax inside of her. She wondered slightly at his soft lips against her neck, at the way he carefully balanced himself with one arm so as not to squash her, at how full she felt with him inside of her…complete… Suddenly he seemed to start, tearing his lips away from her neck and carefully pulling out of her body. She hissed in sudden pain. 'Fuck.' She was definitely going to hurt for awhile. As Hermione winced, Draco's eyes leapt to meet hers, lighting with sudden understanding as he remembered the resistance, the screaming. He glanced down almost guiltily at the telling blood on skin and stone.

"You're a virgin!" he blurted out.

"I was," she replied softly.

"Shit. Sorry. I mean—you should, um, see Mme Pomfrey," he flushed, "or do a healing spell on yourself or something." Hermione noted curiously that he looked anxious, even panicky. 'Is he worried about me? Is he regretting this? Wait, a spell? Oh. Fuck.'

"We didn't use a condom. And I didn't cast any wards or charms or anything!" Hermione blurted out, in shock at her own stupidity. He paled.

"Oh, _fuck_," he echoed Hermione's thoughts aloud.

xxxxx

**A/N **Well, by the time I'm done typing the author's notes, this will be nearly nine pages double spaced in Microsoft Word. Not bad for chapter one. If anyone is still reading this fic, I'm sorry I left you hanging. I actually have at least fifty pages hand-written already, but I type really slowly (a/n about 20 wpm. lol, this is an 'a/n' within the actual author's notes!). Because it takes me so long to type the darn thing, I need a reason to invest the time. Please let me know if I should bother continuing. If people show an interest, I might update within a couple of days. Well, ttfn and thanks for reading.

**Blood White Panther**


	2. Time to React

**A/N** First off, I owe my readers (well, if anyone is still checking this) an apology because I promised prompt updates. Sadly, shit happens. I've been ill (and actually I'm still sick) but I'm finding myself unable to stay away any longer even if I have more important things to worry about. This is the first fanfic I've ever written, and I just can't abandon it after promising to update. Hopefully, late is better than never, but feel free to hate me just a little bit for this. Heh heh. I'm still new at this and that means reviews and even flames are much appreciated! Please let me know what I am doing well and what I'm doing not-so-well.

**Warnings:** mentions of the controversial topic of abortion in this chapter (though there is no actual act performed), poorly written het LEMONS (a/n male x female sex scenes), other sexual content, foul language, Draco/Hermione pairing, hint of Harry being bisexual in future chapters, OOCness, touch of angst, clichés, sappy moments, etc. Also, I have _crazy_ fun with italics.

**Disclaimer: **Much to my continuing displeasure, I do not own any characters, settings, or other recognizable elements of J. K. Rowling's 'Harry Potter' world. I do not make any money from this fanfic. I do, however, take credit for the twisted plot, such as it is, in this fanfic.

xxxxx

Story: **Two Words**

Chapter 2: 'You Just Fucked Up Spectacularly, Time to React'

Draco Malfoy was pacing the length of the Slytherin common room, his usually pristine robes in disarray. He was quite alone and yet he was muttering furiously and incoherently. 'No charms. No warding spells. No—what was that Muggle thing called? A condom?' He absently flicked his wand at the fireplace as he passed it, stoking the embers and turning the renewed flames green. 'Bloody Hell! It's bad enough I fucked Mudblood Granger but I may have impregnated her too?'

"Bloody Fucking Hell!" he raged loudly, punching the back of an innocent chair, not having noticed a trio of first year Slytherin boys entering the common room. In a matter of seconds all three had dropped their books and taken off back through the door and down the hall. Draco scowled slightly, his thoughts racing. She'd been a virgin, too. Only teasing him, at least at first. Shit, it wasn't rape, was it? He was sure that she'd wanted him to stop the moment he'd first torn into her and taken her virginity. Damn it. She'd wanted him, hadn't she? Draco dragged a hand through his hair, nervously pushing back his bangs. What if-

"Draco? What the Hell are you doing up? It's four o'clock in the morning," a rumpled Blaise Zabini muttered sleepily from behind him. The groggy Slytherin stood at the foot of a staircase leading to the boys' dorms. As a response, he received only a startled hiss. He rubbed his eyes and peered on blearily as the lithe blond proceeded to spin around and glare death at him.

"Whoah. You look pissed. Look, I just came down to see who was stomping around down here and yelling their head off in the wee hours." Always the prudent Slytherin, Blaise suddenly looked more awake and slightly fearful at the force of Draco's menacing stare. He relaxed slightly, though, when the other boy softened his gaze and winced.

"Er… Sorry, Blaise. I couldn't sleep. I'll go for a walk or something," Draco mumbled quickly in an uncharacteristic show of concession and apology. Feeling rather confused and wary, Blaise concluded he was rather too exhausted to indulge his curiosity and question his moody housemate. He promptly decided to make his own excuses and retreat.

"Right. Well. G'night, mate." He turned his back on a currently very un-Malfoyish Draco and hurried up the stairs, wanting to escape the wrath that was sure to come if he stuck around looking for answers. Draco watched him leave and let out a breath.

"Might as well…" he intoned tiredly. Sighing in vague irritation he grabbed his cloak and snuck out through the entrance of his common room and down the dark and deserted stone corridor. Five minutes later he pushed open a little known side door and stepped out into the night air. Damn, it was cold. Winter would be here soon. He hurried to close his outer robes and pull up the hood of his cloak. Without really thinking about it, Draco headed down towards the lake. As he let his feet carry him, he thought back to the realization that may have ruined his life… her life…

xxxxx

"We didn't use a condom. And I didn't cast any wards or charms or anything!" Draco felt himself pale in horror.

"Oh, _fuck_."

"I-I could use a morning-after spell…" Hermione offered hesitantly.

"But those are dangerous!" Draco found himself blurting out before he stopped to think. He noted that Hermione appeared slightly taken aback at his concern. She blinked and a small smile twitched at the corners of her lips, though she quickly fought it down with a scowl. 'Merlin, she's beautiful—wait! What?' Draco shifted slightly and was abruptly dragged from his odd thoughts by the clear reminder of their intimate position: skin on skin. He flushed slightly and immediately got up and reached for his robes.

"Scourgify," he muttered as he grasped his wand, effectively cleaning both bodies and the floor of sweat and blood and any other _sticky_ substances. He was pleased to note that, even in his current state of mortification, he remembered to dampen the force behind the cleaning charm so as not to scald anyone. He glanced down at Her-_Granger_ and she blushed prettily and sat up, head down and tangled hair hanging over her breasts, to hurriedly grasp her robes. Draco's hand twitched. He wanted to tilt up her chin and kiss her softly—_he wanted to do no such thing!_ Hermione—damn it—_Granger_ may have been a blushing virgin, but he, Draco, certainly was not. 'This was nothing more than a simple fuck, a one night stand,' he angrily forced himself to think.

Both parties had now finished dressing and were fidgeting (though Draco insisted to himself that Malfoys do NOT fidget), standing awkwardly in the dank hallway. Granger, forever the courageous Gryffindor—_Oh Lord, I shagged a Gryffindor!_—decided to speak first.

"I- um- I have to go. I'll see you in Potions tomorrow…" she trailed off meekly and broke eye contact but suddenly turned back and lifted her chin with resolve, "and Draco…" he looked up sharply at the deliberate use of his given name, searching her face suspiciously, "…Thanks." She grinned devilishly. Outer Draco reddened at this while inner Draco raged (something along the lines of 'Malfoys do not _blush_'). He felt a strange warmth spread through his body and before he could stop himself he smiled slightly. He scowled inwardly at this slip and quickly twisted his lips into a smirk, but the Gryffindor had already turned away, disappearing back around the corner she had first charged passed. Flushing again at the way his body had reacted to Granger's voice and smile he slowly turned himself around, heading back the way he had come, walking towards the Slytherin dorms with his hands shoved in his pockets. A soak in the prefects' bath could wait. He needed a cold shower.

xxxxx

Hermione couldn't believe she'd done that. She stopped halfway down the corridor. Leaning back against the cold stone wall and harshly banging her head, she brought both her hands up to tangle in her hair.

"Urgh!" she growled and sank to the floor in frustration. 'Huh. That kind of hurt. It seems my back is a little scraped up. Must be from the floor.' Bringing her knees to her chest she winced slightly at a sharp twinge of pain between her legs.

She'd been angry—no, _furious_—at Ron when she'd left Gryffindor tower. She'd needed to do something to feel powerful, to feel in control. She'd only meant to tease Malfoy. As soon as she'd discovered the effect she was having on the bastard she'd wanted to get him as horny as possible, force him to beg her for sex, and then deny him. Immature? Yes. Funny as Hell? Fuck, yes, that too. Her mind flashed back to the encounter as she considered her actions…

xxxxx

Unfortunately for her well-laid plans, power over the horny, teenaged boy proved itself intoxicating to Hermione and she found herself unwilling to stop. Enjoying his torture _far_ too much and unable to pull herself away, Hermione panicked, making a lewd comment about Malfoy's mother in order to shock him into breaking contact. However, when she felt him tense beneath her, preparing to shove her away she panicked again. Damn, this felt good, and being a hormonal teenager herself, she did not want the contact to end. Quickly reaching for her wand, she muttered a banishing spell to translocate all of their clothing several feet to her left.

"Hey…" he started to question her actions but quickly decided to moan instead. Without warning he flipped her over, taking control of the situation and switching their positions. Hermione panicked for the third time in about twelve seconds. 'What the bloody Hell did I do that for? How the fuck am I going to stop Malfoy now? Why the Hell does he get all the sodding power? Who the Hell does he thin he i—"Uhhn…" He is, of course, a _god_.' Forgetting common sense and any last reservations, Hermione arched up against his hard, hot, sweaty body, tangling her fingers in his surprisingly soft hair and writhing under his Quidditch-calloused fingertips, soft lips, hot tongue, and sharp teeth.

xxxxx

Blushing furiously, Hermione tore her thoughts away from the encounter. She reflected that the point of no return had been reached when she'd removed their clothing rather than lose his touch. Making that decision, she should have immediately cast at least one good pregnancy prevention ward. If only he hadn't been so damn _distracting_. At this thought Hermione shuddered slightly, telling herself the shudder came from exhaustion, or perhaps from one of those mysterious drafts common to these dank and dusty corridors.

"What if I get pregnant?" she whispered forlornly. She shuddered again, this time in fear. Hermione was a Gryffindor. This meant that she was brave. However, she was also practical and smart. Despite her excellent spellwork and vast pool of academic knowledge and theory, she knew she could never perform a successful morning-after spell on herself. This type of spell was dangerous, as Malfoy had pointed out, and the risk of making herself barren, or worse, was too great. Not being an experienced and professionally trained healer, she could bleed herself to death. Mme Pomfrey could probably do it, though. Hermione was surely not the first scared and irresponsible girl caught up in teenage hormones who feared for her future. It would be hard to ask for that kind of spell, though, especially for a serious student like Hermione. She'd do it if she had to, she did have her Gryffindor courage to fall back on, after all, but the regulations concerning that type of spell, essentially an abortion spell, were very strict. Because she was only fifteen years old, still a minor in both the wizarding and Muggle worlds, her parents would have to be informed—they did not have the authority to object to the process because at fifteen in the wizarding world she was legally allowed to authorize such a procedure, but as her legal guardians they _would_ have to be informed.

Repressing a shiver, Hermione continued to clinically consider the problem and all possible recourses. She would not yet allow herself to be anything but analytical and detached, though questions of moral obligations were impossible to ignore when she considered the controversy of a morning-after spell and the Muggle pill equivalent. If there _was_ a fertilized embryo in her body, it wasn't yet an independent organism. It was just cells now—ready to divide and eventually grow into something else—but for now it was just a few cells. How did she feel about choosing to eliminate a possible life, to negate the chance for an existence that might be taking root inside her? Could she play God like that? What would happen to her life if she didn't have the spell done and she really did get pregnant? Her reputation would be ruined, certainly, though her friends would stick by her. 'As long as I don't tell them about Malfoy,' she amended. Her academic career would be brought up short, or at least made infinitely more difficult. Her parents would be let down—she had always pushed for her best and though they loved her and never pressured it of her, they would undoubtedly be shocked at _this_. And there was the whole problem of money. Her parents were both dentists, but she was eager to beg or to be a burden on her family. The Malfoys were rich, but they'd never pay child support. Not to mention Draco Malfoy himself. No, that bastard should never be allowed to procreate. And it would cement a connection between the two of them so that she was forced to interact with him in the future. Not to mention her status as a so-called 'Mudblood' and his as a pureblood from a family of Voldemort supporters. Hell, his father was a fucking _Death Eater_! Any child resulting from her dalliance into dominating the Malfoy brat would result in Lucius Malfoy as the grandfather of her child.

As many problems as a child would cause, Hermione reminded herself there was not yet any guarantee of one. They'd only had sex once, after all. Health class had taught her that you don't get pregnant every time. The inbred ferret might not even be fertile! In three weeks she could perform a pregnancy spell and her period was due in just two and a half. Perhaps she was getting ahead of herself—there might be nothing to worry about. There was no need to upset her parents and trash her reputation with the school nurse for nothing. She could wait. With a shiver, she reminded herself that if worst came to worst she could always resort to an abortion spell. 'I just hope the bastard's clean! I'll curse him straight to Hell if he gave me an STD!'

Slowly getting to her feet, Hermione brushed the dust and cobwebs off her dishevelled robes and cast a quick cleaning charm. She ran her fingers through her wild hair in a fruitless attempt to smooth down the tangles. Wincing slightly at the dull burn between her legs, she grimly lifted her chin and set a determined pace, striding confidently back towards Gryffindor tower. It took longer than usual to figure out where she was. She didn't often frequent the dungeons—only for Potions—and she'd been charging around in aimless fury the eve before, but she eventually got her bearings. After she'd found the right staircase—_twice_, as the frustrating thing had changed the first time she'd climbed it—it did not take long until she reached the familiar portrait of the fat lady. Checking her watch, she saw that it was already a quarter to three. She and Ron had fought at roughly eleven o'clock. Between her angry running through the deserted castle, her heated encounter with Malfoy, her near mental break down immediately following the incident, and her exhausting search for familiar territory, she'd been gone for nearly four hours!

After she woke up an irate fat lady to murmur the password, Hermione nervously peeked into the common room. Fortunately for her, it looked empty. Ron had likely been too furious to search for her. As she stole quietly into the room, though, she heard a soft sniffle and sleepy murmuring coming from the other side of a large armchair at the fireside. Nervously sneaking forwards to check who it was, every muscle tense and her wand hand ready at her robe pocket, she relaxed visibly at the sight of the familiar tussled black hair. Smiling in a rather motherly way at one of her two best friends she realized how lucky she was to _have_ two of them. When one was angry, she still had to the other to wait up for her. Well, he'd _tried_ anyway. She carefully shook him awake, admonishing him for worrying and sending the groggy friend up to bed with assurances that _yes, she was fine_ and _no, she wasn't going to curse him for leaving his work so late again, or Ron for being such a prat_ and _it's late,_ _he really must get to bed for a proper sleep_.

Hermione dragged herself up the stairs after Harry, turning at the junction to the girls' dorms, and quietly snuck into her room so as not to wake up her roommates. It _was_ quite late, actually, and she had to stifle a yawn as she stripped off her outer robes and tie to collapse onto soft covers. 'At least I ran into Malfoy and not Filch. He really was acting strangely, though. He almost seemed caring…' were her last sleepy thoughts as she drifted off to sleep, her senses filled with the lingering scent of the blond, despite his earlier Scourgify.

xxxxx

"Hermione! Time to get going. You'll be late for class!" called the high-pitched voice of Lavender Brown from the doorway.

"Mmpph," Hermione muttered into her pillow as her sleep-fogged brain tried to register the cryptic message. 'Late… Class?' She slowly dragged herself up and leaned back into a sitting position.

"Merlin, you look just awful, dear. Did you sleep in those clothes?" she paused as an incredulous look stole across her face, "Hermione, didn't you _go_ to class this morning!?"

"Didn't I what!?" Hermione lurched violently to her feet, grimaced and swayed little, and promptly sat back down. She was still a little sore between the legs, not to mention all the bruises from being violently and enthusiastically fucked into a stone floor. Her right hip ached and her left shoulder was stinging painfully where the Slytherin bastard had bitten her.

"What time is it?"

"Lunch hour is just ending. Afternoon lessons start in ten minutes—I just came up here to get my textbook for Potions."

"Uhhn…" Hermione shoved her face into her pillow and groaned at the word 'Potions'. Potions meant Malfoy. She didn't want to face him yet. Not to mention Snape. And she didn't even have time for a shower.

"Look, I know it's none of my business, Hermione, but… Are you feeling alright? You never oversleep. And you _don't_ miss class."

"I'm not going, Lavender, I'll see you later." Lavender's eyes widened still further and she nervously chewed her bottom lip.

"Do you want, I mean… Should I take you to see the nurse?"

"Erm, no, that's alright Lavender. I'm just not feeling very well. I'm sure I'll be fine tomorrow."

"If you're sure, dear… I've got to run. I'll tell Snape you're sick, okay? Though, knowing him, I don't know that it'll do much good. He's no where near as nice as Professor Trelawney." Hermione forced down her annoyance at the mothering pet name and the description of Trelawney as 'nice'. 'Lavender is just trying to be understanding of me, her fellow classmate. Bad thoughts, Hermione. You've no reason to bite her head off.' She muttered a disinterested 'mmhm' to the question and listened as Lavender hurriedly hunted for her textbook, hefted her bag, and left in a rush. You weren't late for Potions with Snape. Not unless you wanted a lecture and negative House points. Sighing in a mixture of mild depression and intense relief, Hermione snuggled deeper into her wrinkled blankets and tried to fall back to sleep.


	3. Get Over Him, Get Under Her

**Title: **Two Words

**Fandom:** Harry Potter

**Author:** Blood White Panther (aka whitepanther16)

**Rating/Warnings:** This has an M (or R) rating for mature themes, angst, sappy moments, foul language, and sexual content. Also, I have _crazy_ fun with italics. This has not been beta-ed.

**Pairing(s):** DracoHermione

**Notes:** Well, I've been reading my old author's notes and laughing at myself. I was such a newb. Updates within a week? Yeah, right. And man did I write some foul-mouthed dialogue. I was such a teenager when I wrote this story, but as much as I no longer exactly agree with what I wrote, I will continue to post updates until it's finished (no matter how long it takes me). Also, it seems like the plot progresses a lot faster than I had originally intended. Maybe it's more of a PWP afterall…

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything that is recognizable from the Harry Potter verse, and I'm not making any money off of this.

xxxxx

Chapter 3: 'Get Over Him, Get Under Her'

Draco looked up from his desk, angry at his own anxiousness, as Professor Snape entered the room in a swirl of black robes. Where the Hell was she, anyway? The stupidly overeager Mudblood was _never_ late. He glanced at Potter and the Weasel for the fifteenth time and allowed his gaze to subtly peruse the classroom. Brown was still missing as well, so perhaps she'd detained Granger somehow. At that moment Blaise caught his eye and questioningly quirked an eyebrow at his classmate. To a fellow Slytherin, it was about as subtle as prodding him in the midsection and demanding what was wrong. Draco sighed.

"It's nothing. I'm just bored. You must be aware that I know this material from my private studies," he drawled in answer to the unspoken question. Determinedly, he listened to Professor Snape's lecture, but his nervous fingers found a jar of powdered rat claws and he began to fidget with it, tapping it quietly against the double desk he shared with Blaise. Ten minutes into the lecture on advanced poisons and antidotes, Brown burst into the room panting and clutching at the doorframe.

"S-sorry, Professor. I was checking on Hermione. She's sick today." The Gryffindor hurriedly took a seat beside Parvati Patil. Draco felt his whole body twitch at the name "Hermione", remembering the indecent way he had moaned her name the night before. At "sick" his eyes snapped to stare at Brown.

"Miss _Brown_, if Miss _Granger_ is the one who is ill, then why are _you_ the one who is late?"

"Profe-"

"Ten minutes late, I might add." interjected the angry potions master. "Ten points from Gryffindor for a purely idiotic excuse. Fifteen points for disrupting my class. Now pay attention."

Still brooding about why Granger would be sick, Draco snapped back to reality. 'Shut up, it doesn't matter why she's sick,' he warned his subconscious. Sometime that morning he'd come to the decision that it was acceptable for a Malfoy to screw a Mudblood into the ground for his own pleasure—mainly because he wanted to do it again—but that it was not, however, acceptable for him to worry about the girl. Malfoys simply do not concern themselves with the well-being of Mudbloods.

xxxxx

The bell rang for the next period and Draco quickly gathered his belongings. Having barely paid attention to the lecture that afternoon, Draco was thankful to Merlin for the lack of practical work. As he left the classroom, his eyes settled on Potter and the Weasel and he slipped behind a statue to watch as they cornered Brown.

"Thanks so much for checking up on her, Lavender. We were worried when she didn't show up for breakfast, but you know that guys can't use the girls stairs."

"Sure, Harry. Won-Won!" She smiled endearingly at Ron and Draco gagged silently, stifling a snort.

"Erm. Y-yeah. Thanks," Weasley mumbled, turning red. As the three fell into step together and headed off toward their next classes Draco gave into a niggling curiosity and trailed half a hallway behind, listening in on their conversation.

"So, is she alright? She never misses class."

"I think so. She's just not feeling well. Everyone has to get sick sometime or another." Draco wondered at the timing as the three do-gooders fell into amiable silence. After a moment, Draco realized that he and the small group of Gryffindors were practically the only people left in that particular hallway. He abruptly stopped following them and turned to head back to his common room. Still caught in his ponderings, he told himself it was probably just a coincidence. She just had a cold or something. He wrinkled his nose. 'Yuck, hope I don't catch it.' Then he smirked. Maybe she was just worn out from staying up so late. His smirk faltered. Maybe, said a nagging little voice, she didn't want to see _you_. 'And why should I care if she didn't?' he mumbled angrily to himself as he approached the entrance to his common rooms.

"Mudblood," he murmured the password, colouring slightly as images of a naked Granger, under him, begging, and calling his name immediately surfaced from his recent memories. He cursed and made a mental note to change the password. Good thing he was a prefect.

Draco spent fifteen minutes studying quietly in the armchair nearest the hearth. The fire sizzled and cracked and brought to mind the way the torchlight had illuminated her skin. He sighed dramatically and loudly closed his books for effect, though, actually, he was genuinely rather put out by it all. It was absolutely no good. He couldn't get her off of his mind, out of his thoughts. He supposed he had to see her and find out what was wrong with the silly girl. He had to find out if she regretted it, or even if it might have been rape, before he lost his mind wondering (he refused to think "worrying") about it. Taking up his newly acquired habit of pacing the length of the common room he reasoned out a strategy. 'If she isn't having second thoughts, maybe she'd like to do it again.' The thought had hit him without warning or relevance and it seemed a little too hopeful and wistful for Draco's liking, so he immediately rephrased it. Of _course_ she'd let him take her again. Women were completely powerless to his charms. He smirked, but couldn't stay his usual cocky self. Despite her lack of experience, there'd been something captivating about the Mudblood and he had to admit that, yes, he did want to experience that again. Draco Malfoy frowned in irritated determination. Malfoys always get what they want. He'd have to find her tomorrow. Corner her between classes or something… This settled, he collapsed on a nearby couch and attempted to do his Defense Against the Dark Arts reading assignment.

xxxxx

Hermione woke with a start. Damn it all, it was only five o'clock in the morning. It had been a week and a half since 'the incident' and she'd been avoiding Draco Malfoy like the bubonic plague. She stuck to Harry, Ron, and even Lavender like melted marshmallow goop, trying never to be alone and refusing to respond to the usual Slytherin goads. She wasn't exactly sure why she was doing this, but she was a little afraid to be alone with _him_ and he obviously had something to say to her. Her teeth worried at her bottom lip as she rushed down the deserted hall. One thought kept plaguing her: 'What if I'm no good?' Thank God and Merlin alike, he hadn't decided to gossip about her, or at least no new rumours had reached Gryffindor yet, but she didn't want to hear him say it had been awful. He would say she was terrible and it was a mistake, that he'd been a horny teenager and decided on a whim to fuck a Mudblood but had learned his lesson and would never do _that_ again. Having decided she'd rather remain in the dark about his reasons for seeking her out over the last week, she'd been actively strategising to avoid him altogether. Unfortunately for Hermione, however, it was getting increasingly harder to evade the snake. It was almost as if he was deliberately trying to torture her. On top of that, she hadn't been getting enough sleep lately or, rather, the sleep she did get was plagued with erotic dreams about that bloody Slytherin and she always awoke feeling restless and exhausted. 5:30 now. 'I'll never get back to sleep,' she thought. Sighing, Hermione dragged herself out of bed for a quick shower. There was no way Malfoy would be up this early, so it would be safe to take a walk down to the lake. Some fresh air would do her good.

xxxxx

Unbeknownst to Hermione, in the Slytherin dungeons someone else was beleaguered by interesting dreams. Draco awoke panting and sweaty. Damn it. This was the sixth wet dream he'd had since his night with Granger and it had only ten days since their little encounter. Frustrated with his subconscious, Draco sat up and checked the clock. 4:39 in the morning. Damn it all to Hell, didn't he get to sleep anymore? He propped up his head in his hands, nearly ready to start tearing out his own hair. It felt a little like going crazy.

Draco had been trying to corner Granger for the last ten days. Ten days and the bloody Gryffindor was never alone. With an exasperated sigh, Draco gathered some clean robes and a towel, heading off to take a long shower. However, a hot shower proved to be an idea of questionable merits. Unable to clear his head of the Gryffindor, Draco caught himself sliding his hand towards a prominent erection. 'Damn it,' he silently cussed, 'Malfoys do not wank off in the shower. _Especially_ not to Mudbloods.' With an angry snarl, Draco yanked the tap from hot to cold, yelping slightly, but refusing to remove himself from the frigid spray.

Half an hour later, Draco was sitting on the ground at the edge of the lake, his knees halfway up to his chest and hands draped across them, leaning against a large rock. It had started snow, the first fluffy flakes of the year, and Draco was starting to shiver. It was only about twenty past five, though, and he was as yet unwilling to leave the peace of the lake behind in favour of going back inside the stuffy passages of the dungeons.

Hearing footsteps crunching loudly on dry leaves, Draco was startled from his thoughts. Turning, he caught a glimpse of Granger's tangled mop and ducked lower behind the boulder, effectively hiding himself from view. He didn't know exactly why he was hiding, considering this could be the chance he'd he needed to turn on the charm and seduce his way back under Granger's robes. He found the thought of pretending to be a suddenly smitten schoolboy more than slightly repulsive, but he really needed a good lay.

xxxxx

Hermione wrapped her scarf around her neck and shoved her icy hands into her pockets. 'Maybe this was a bad idea,' she fretted. 'It's bloody cold out here and it looks like it's starting to snow.' Sighing, she stomped down the dirt path to the lake, remembering a large, comfortable rock. Just as she sighted the stone and began to draw nearer to it, someone in black and green Slytherin robes gracefully stood up from behind it. Someone with steely eyes and smooth, blond hair. Crap. As she turned to escape, Hermione felt a strong hand grab hold of her wrist.

"Hang on, Granger. You've been avoiding me." Hermione felt hot breath against her neck and ear as he whispered against her skin. She shivered and became immediately angry.

"Oh, so it's Granger now and not 'the Mudblood'?" She span around furiously, remembering an altercation just a few days previous. Malfoy had told an incensed Ron, 'Bugger off, Weasel, so I can have a little chat with the Mudblood.' Needless to say, this had not gone over well.

"Er, sorry about that." She nearly collapsed from shock. An apology? She watched questioningly as his eyes trailed down to their joined hands and he quickly let go of her wrist.

"I, um, need to talk to you," he persisted evasively, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

"Alright," she replied quietly, deciding not to run. ('Damn, I'm good,' thought Draco.) She moved a few feet away to sit on the boulder she'd sought out previously. He eyed her nervously and then moved to sit on the ground, leaning back against the rock about a foot from where she sat. He gazed down at the grass, unwilling to meet her eyes. He seemed almost nervous, actually.

"What is it, Malfoy?" she drawled. He appeared to start, glancing over his shoulder at his name on her lips and quickly looking away from her face. He seemed almost hurt at the tone, for Christ's sake.

"You can call me Draco. We did have sex," he deadpanned.

"You still call me Granger." He frowned.

"Hermione, then." She felt herself flush. It was a good thing he wasn't looking at her. (Draco smirked. He was certain she was blushing.)

"Alright _Draco_, what's on your mind?" she queried, putting a careful emphasis on the name. He seemed to shudder a little.

"Er, how are you?" (That's it, Draco. Lay it on just a little thicker. Don't let her suspect anything, though.)

"What?" Okay, now she was definitely confused. (Damn she has a sexy voice. Wait, no! Stop it, you idiot. Pay attention.)

"You were sick the day after we, um, slept together, and you've been avoiding me ever since."

"I was just tired. And a little sore." She studied his profile and continued. "You were quite enthusiastic, you know." She smirked triumphantly as Draco blushed again. Suddenly, he turned to face her. Crouching at her feet, left hand balanced on the rock beside her hip, his eyes burned furiously into hers. Hermione steeled herself for the worst.

"It wasn't rape, was it Granger?" (He was admittedly a little bit curious about this part.)

"_What!?_" she shrilled incredulously, caught completely by surprise.

"I know you were just teasing me at first. I didn't force you, did I?" He was blushing slightly, but he appeared determined to hear out her side of the story. He seemed honestly concerned that he may have taken advantage of her and forced her to give in to her hormones.

"No. And I thought I told you to call me Hermione," she replied firmly. His eyes widened slightly and he let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. (Yeah right, every last gesture was calculated.) He continued to search her face. "I'm sorry I teased you. It was a stupid thing to do," she blurted.

"Do you regret it, then?" he asked, his voice a little rougher.

"That's not what I meant," Hermione replied nervously. 'Blood Hell, he looks fuckable, so shy and unsure of himself, his hair slipping out of place…' Before she could think her way out of it, she reached out and smoothed the strands back from his forehead. She wanted to kiss away his worries about consent.

"If you're not sorry, then why have you been avoiding me?" he persisted. She sighed.

"I thought _you_ might be regretting it. I didn't want to hear you say you'd only wanted to screw a Mudblood and you were sorry you did." She shook slightly, unwilling to meet his eyes as she continued. "I don't know if I was any good." And then, rising quickly, he was up on his knees in front of her, tentatively putting his arms around her (And damn was it hard to be tentative.). He drew her down to kneel in front of him and kissed her. Softly at first. Asking a question and needing an answer. He was trembling (Which was probably due to the fact that he was struggling not to just jump her. Self control, mate. Self control.). Slowly, the kiss became more eager.


End file.
